


Precious

by burusu



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burusu/pseuds/burusu
Summary: He knew about Husk's past. Of course he did; he had ownership of his soul. So he could guess what this was about—the war, and all the horrors that came with it. The cat's chosen name, 'Husk,' was a fitting description of what those experiences had left him.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Precious

Alastor was not an affectionate person.

Sure, he often used 'dear' and the like in regular conversations, but that was simply a part of his southern charm, something he'd picked up from his mother. It was polite, she had told him, and he found that it did work in luring unsuspecting victims into a sense of security. 

However, physically? He could count on one hand the people he'd ever shown actual physical affection to, and one of them was his mother. He was touchy, sure, but it was more for dramatic effect than any feeling of endearment.

(Of course, he had certain boundaries. He wasn't going around groping people like the disgusting rat made a habit of.)

There were two exceptions to his rule, however. Niffty, being the adorable little thing she was, occasionally got head pats for a job well done. She was a good worker, and had absolutely no problem with who he was or what he did. He felt she deserved some recognition every now and then.

The other exception was more... complicated. 

The carmine demon's eyes trailed the wreckage of the dingy room his dear Husker chose to dwell in. Bottles everywhere, torn furniture, and red feathers littering the floor and bed. He stepped over several spilled drinks, the static around him buzzing with distaste. He couldn't help the small amount of concern beginning to gnaw away at him as he grew closer to where he knew the cat to be.

The sight was... rather pitiful. Husk sat with his back against the wall, clutching a bottle of some kind of booze in his left hand like a lifeline. His breaths were shallow and hitched, as if he'd been crying. Alastor's brow furrowed, but his smile remained fixed on his face.

He knew about Husk's past. Of course he did; he had ownership of his soul. So he could guess what this was about—the war, and all the horrors that came with it. The cat's chosen name, 'Husk,' was a fitting description of what those experiences had left him.

"The fuck do you want?" The vulnerable demon spat at Alastor, obviously still on edge. And why wouldn't he be? 

The concern that had begun tugging at the Radio Demon took hold, and he found himself letting out a breath, and carefully making his way to Husk. Of course, the feline was less than thrilled about this, and halfheartedly attempted to bat him away, hissing threateningly. Alastor paid this no mind, and simply sat down next to his friend.

Friends... was that what they were at this point? He doubted Husker saw him as such. 

He crossed his legs Indian style, then grabbed the cat by the scruff of his neck, which was met with protests.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he stated, huffing in slight annoyance. Then he gently tugged the hissing Husk down until his head was in Alastor's lap. When the other tried to get up, he dug his claws into his neck—not enough to break the skin, but enough to act as a warning. 

That got Husk to stop fighting, and once he'd relaxed somewhat, Alastor began carefully running his fingers through his fur. It was a precise, calculated movement, as was everything involving the deer, yet... gentle. He was trying to be soothing, despite being out of his element. 

Husk seemed taken aback, becoming very still for a long moment. 

No words were needed. The rhythmic petting eventually started to do its job, with Husk's breathing slowing to a more normal pace. As the cat let out a slow breath, Alastor's expression changed minutely. His shark-like grin softened somewhat, and his eyes betrayed the fondness creeping its way into his cold, dead heart.

Husker couldn't see that, though, which was fine by him. As long as the sentiment was received in his actions, he was content with never voicing his attachment.

Once his dearest friend dozed off, he gently lifted him onto the only bed in the room. Then, with a wave of his hand, the room was once again pristine. 

He stared at Husk for a long moment, his smile offset by the longing in his eyes. None would ever witness such an expression on him, not even the man it was for. His feelings would remain inside him until he was extinguished, he had decided that long ago. Even though he wished he could express them properly, it would spell danger for the object of his affection. 

No, that certainly wouldn't do.

So he tore his eyes away from Husker— _his_ Husker—and walked into the abyss, letting the shadows swallow him whole. 

Husk may not remember his visit when he awoke, but that was okay. At least he'd been able to help him, for once...


End file.
